


The inexhaustible comfort of you

by goodbyelover



Category: Day6 (Band), GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Kitchen appliances, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodbyelover/pseuds/goodbyelover
Summary: The paperweight of the moon had been one of the first decorations in this apartment, back when everything had been barebones and painfully awkward, the apartment struggling to adjust to the two of them as much as they were adjusting to each other.The moon had been the first offering, a gift meant three ways.(Or: Youngjae reflects on what it means to have a home, while Younghyun is there for him every step of the way.)
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/Kang Younghyun | Young K
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	The inexhaustible comfort of you

**Author's Note:**

> Idol Radio was the strangers to lovers AU we deserved and I had some feelings as it came to a close. Also that goddamn dishwasher.
> 
> Thanks @maricolous ♥

Youngjae was dragging his feet and he knew it.

They’d already packed up the main room and the kitchen, with the essentials of the bathroom waiting until the very last, so it fell to him to get their bedroom squared away into boxes and instead he sat on the bed, some stupid knick knack cradled in his hands as he stared at the wall.

Okay, it wasn’t stupid. The paperweight of the moon had been one of the first decorations in this apartment, back when everything had been barebones and painfully awkward, the apartment struggling to adjust to the two of them as much as they were adjusting to each other. 

The moon had been the first offering, a gift meant three ways.

Youngjae carefully held the paperweight in his hands, like a little world of its own, fingertips running over every memorized crater with mindless familiarity.

Behind him, the bed dipped and a warm embrace enveloped Youngjae as Younghyun propped his chin on Youngjae’s shoulder. “Baby?” the other asked quietly, no more than a gentle prompt. “Do you want me to do it instead?” 

It took a moment for Youngjae to sort himself out enough to answer, thoughts having slowed to a sluggish crawl during his stupor. As he resurfaced, he took Younghyun’s hand, twining their fingers with a similar mindless familiarity. 

“I can do it,” he said finally, blinking away the daze. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Younghyun asked. Once upon a time, Younghyun would have been full of hesitance and uncertainty, but time had given them the chance to read each other’s books, and Younghyun was better versed in Youngjae’s body language now.

“I…” Youngjae paused, testing the words out on his tongue before he let them out into the air to be real. “I don’t like it.”

He didn’t want to pack up their home. They’d only lived here a year, but it was an extension of them now. The walls had once been empty enough that they’d had room to mock and jeer, but Youngjae and Younghyun had forced them to behave, draping them in artwork of lunar beauty and celestial glow to become beautiful instead. 

(It hadn’t been a purposefully pretentious aesthetic but Youngjae was the moon and Younghyun was the lover.)

Hand in hand, they built something together. They built a home from a tiny apartment, leaving traces of their souls in the worn floorboards and scuffed countertops. The walls held their secrets, their promises, and their love.

But now they had to strip it bare again and allow the emptiness to feel its victory. Youngjae had been offered a year abroad through his university, an opportunity to return to South Korea after so many years away. Having just graduated, Younghyun was moving back in with his parents until Youngjae returned, taking the sensible financial option, even if it meant neither of them could call this place home anymore. They’d already taken Coco to Younghyun’s parents, not wanting her to stress with all the packing and boxes and Youngjae’s quiet grief.

Younghyun was steady and warm as he bumped his nose against Youngjae’s cheek. “I know,” he murmured. “But this isn’t the end, baby, it’s just the next step.” Before Youngjae could fall prey to irritation, Younghyun squeezed him gently. “Lets do it together?”

Who was Youngjae to say no to that? Hand in hand, they had made this home and hand in hand, they could lay this home to rest.

***

Youngjae didn’t like his apartment in Seoul.

He’d even go as far as to say he hated it.

It wasn’t _terrible_ – he knew objectively that it wasn’t. The apartment was large enough for a single person, modern and sleek, and just two subway stops away from the university he was attending for classes. Most would call the view from his window charming, with bustling rooftops during the day and glittering city lights during the night.

And still, Youngjae hated it.

“It’s too hot,” he told Younghyun over video chat.

“It’s too cold.”

“The shower pressure is weak.”

“I don’t like these countertops.”

“The neighbors are weird.”

“This flooring is tacky.”

_It's not home._

Every time, Younghyun listened. The distance made it hard for him to sooth Youngjae’s acerbity, but he recognized it for the discomfort it actually was, versus the anger it hid behind. “It’s going to be okay, baby,” he said, no matter how many times he had to repeat it. 

“It’s going to be okay.”

“I hate doing the dishes,” Youngjae told him one day. Timing these chats was something they’d gotten down to a science and Youngjae needed to go to sleep soon, while Younghyun had barely awoken. “Every time I cook, I just want to eat and finally relax, but they’re just fucking sitting in the sink, piling up.”

“You did always hate dishes. You’d always put them off until I did them,” Younghyun said with a chuckle, before quietly diverting the conversation away from the topic. Youngjae allowed himself the distraction, the soft lilt of Younghyun’s voice taking him far away from this place that Youngjae could not call home. 

Home was too far away.

The dishes sat in the sink, undone.

A week later, a box was delivered. It was bulky and heavy, the delivery man bringing it to Youngjae’s door on a dolly and depositing it just inside the door with a tip of his head. Having not expected anything delivered – his parents would just make the drive up here, or make his brother drive up here if they really wanted him to have something – Youngjae peered down at the box in confusion.

It was a dishwasher.

The delivery slip taped on top has a note printed within the description. ‘Call me’ it said, and Youngjae sat on the floor so hard, he felt something bruise, fumbling for his phone with hands that shook because everything inside of him was suddenly far, far too much to contain.

It was late for Younghyun, late enough that Youngjae wasn’t even sure he’d be awake, but after the call rang, and rang, and rang, Younghyun’s voice came on, raspy and guttural with sleep. “Hey, baby.”

Youngjae opened his mouth and then promptly burst into tears.

“Oh, baby,” Younghyun said, and his tenderness was devastating. “Baby, don’t cry, what’s wrong?” 

“You’re mine,” Youngjae sobbed out. He didn’t know why he said it, or why it came out quite like that, but it was all he could manage for a very long time. 

You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re _mine._

But Younghyun is steadfast. “I know, baby.”

“I love you,” Youngjae said. He could manage that too.

“I know, baby,” Younghyun said, and laughed now that he knew Youngjae was not so fragile. “And I know that you hate doing dishes.”

“I miss you,” Youngjae said, instead of ‘I want to go home’.

Youngjae couldn’t see Younghyun’s face, but could so easily picture the fondness of his smile, the warmth of his hands. Younghyun had never shied away from giving Youngjae his all. “It’s okay, baby. This isn’t forever, it’s just the next step.”

The call came to an end once Younghyun dropped his phone on his face from exhaustion, Youngjae fussily shooing him to bed. It left Youngjae in the silence of the apartment, sitting next to the dishwasher. It wasn’t a full sized affair, meant to perch on the countertop and designed for a single person.

Younghyun had bought it for him because he knew Youngjae hated dishes.

Slowly, Youngjae shoved the box towards the kitchen. He didn’t think he could ever call it a home, but maybe he could let this place in on a secret, a promise, a love. Something to fill the walls.

Something from both him and Younghyun

***

Youngjae’s heart hammered against his ribs as he stepped off the plane, swept along by the other passengers disembarking. His hands felt clammy as he shoved them into his hoodie pouch.

Though there were so many reasons it was impossible, Youngjae felt a rush of paranoia wash over him. What if he was dreaming and he’d wake up still in Seoul? What if he’d gotten on the wrong plane and he was in the wrong airport?

What if Younghyun wasn’t waiting for him?

And that was probably the silliest worry of them all, because they step through security and Youngjae’s greeted by a sign written out in neon paint, held aloft by his most favorite person ever.

[★☆★Welcome Home, Dal-Di!★☆★]

Tears blurred Youngjae’s vision as he flat out ran, slamming into Younghyun and crushing the sign between them. Younghyun didn't seem to mind much at all as he wrapped Youngjae up, squeezing him breathless. 

“You’re here, you’re here, you’re here,” Youngjae chanted, as if he hadn’t been the one to return.

But Younghyun just held him tighter, kissed his temple. “I’m here, my love.”

They eventually extricated themselves from each other, though Younghae clutched at Younghyun’s hand and refused to let go, even as they went to retrieve his luggage, eventually making it out Younghyun’s trusty Honda Civic. 

“Should we grab dinner before we head home?” Younghyun asked as they bundled into the car.

Youngjae tucked his feet up on the seat, despite Younghyun’s protest, and grinned. “Up to you,” he said. It didn’t matter to him, either way, though he’d love to see Coco as soon as possible.

He’d realized something, between the luggage carousel and the short-term parking: He was already home.

Maybe they didn’t have a place to call their own – they’d have to build a new place together, have to fill another set of walls with secrets, promises, and love, but Youngjae recognized that despite all that, he had returned home, because he had returned to Younghyun. 

And Younghyun would always be home.


End file.
